Trigger
by MavisK
Summary: A sequel of "Breathe" my other story, Willow Mellark joins her fellow soldiers, thrown into a life of war by the age of thirteen. She wonders why the world has come to this and continues to dig up information about her parent's past. Who is so dissatisfied with the government that they will take ten years to plan their attack? And how long until Willow has to pull a trigger?
1. Chapter 1

I push at the gray food, my throat closing up at the smell. I know the meals are supposed to give us proper nutrition, but I always feel hungry after it. I shove a small bit in my mouth, trying not to gag and show the small crowd near me that I'm too weak to eat a little bit of unrecognizable food. I've been in the training center for only two days, this being my third. I haven't heard from my mom or dad but I should also stop worrying so much. It hasn't been that long and I didn't see anyone in my dormitory with letters yet either. The departure was painful and I thought they'd write at once, but with dad's new job and mom trying to work out more war plans, it must be hard to get to a pen and paper.

I shove my food aside, deciding to go hungry rather than eat something that tastes like puke.

"Hey kid," someone sits down in front of me, their uniform tight against a strong looking body. I glance up, seeing a pair of brown eyes connected to a dark skinned body, their hair whisked messily across their forehead.

"Can I help you?" I say, my eyes dancing over to my uneaten food self-consciously.

"You know our first training session is in a half hour right?" he says. His voice is bossy and demanding, his hands gripping the side of the table like he's on edge.

"Yeah, I noticed," I say.

"So you might want to eat," he says, "Unless you're planning on committing suicide by starving to death, for which you would win the award to fastest person to do it." He gets up and leaves me alone at the table, my gray mush staring me in the face. I eat it as quickly as I can.

0o0

Yes I know who my mother is. Katniss Everdeen, the famous rebel who overthrew a government with just a few berries. There are books, but the truest story is the scars I constantly see when she rolls up her sleeves. I remember as a little girl how she would tell me stories of princes and princesses, when all I wanted to know were the details of her past. Dad told me a little but neither of them said the whole truth so I went digging at the library. I know their story, or at least some of it, truth and lies all written down in a gossip book. I also learned that we're training for a war which I confronted them about.

That's how I ended up here.

I am going to be a solider to help infiltrate the place where our enemies lay. Apparently a nameless man runs the corporation, preparing to overthrow what we have now and become our leader, for the sake of money and possible revenge of his son who my mother killed. It makes me scared to know that their lives are in danger, but it's been ten years since all that happened and though we aren't sure if they are even still coming for us, we want to be ready for any threats.

"An army is what we need," snaps our team leader, a middle-aged man with a black buzz cut and a sleeve of tattoos going down his arm. He wears a uniform like us, cameo colors for a tank top, and black baggy pants to tuck into our heavy military boots.

"So an army we will create," he says. We're all in training room #28, closer to the basement than I'd like to be. I've always had a suffocating fear of underground places.

"Get into pairs," he says. People shuffle around, looking for their new friends or just someone random who might be weaker than them. I see the boy who told me to eat but he turns away and matches up with some blonde girl. Someone taps my back and I turn, seeing a skinny girl with short black hair, cut jaggedly to her shoulders. She has pale skin and dark eyes with long lashes, making her look pretty but her scowl more solemn.

"Partners?" she asks, sounding bored. I just nod, swallowing my words. I always say the wrong thing anyway. Our team leader (Richie), stands at the front of the room with an adult woman in a skin tight jumpsuit.

"This is Shai," he says, "She is a graduate, one of the very first when this organization was founded ten years ago after a threat and many others were found. She will help me demonstrate what you will be doing with your partner. The first step to war is getting past the idea that you care about the person in front of you. You can't waste time trying to negotiate or get them to show you mercy. You need to act quickly, without hesitation, no matter who it is. Shai is my good friend but-" suddenly, he smacks her across the face. Almost everyone gasps as Shai barely flinches and smacks him back, right across the cheek.

"If she was coming at me, to kill me," says Richie, "I would have to do something along those lines. None of you are ready to shoot anyone but if you can show me you can slap an innocent person, then I know you can hurt someone who actually has done something wrong. Begin." This already seems like brutal mistreatment but I ignore the little voice in my head and remember that I'm doing this for my family.

"You first," says the girl. I wind back my hand, not really knowing how to slap someone. I imagine I'm hitting something in anger and decide on a wall. But my hand hits flesh a second later and I feel instantly guilty. The girl just pulls her head back up, giving her hair a shake before slamming her palm onto my cheek. Pain shoots across my face but I manage to keep my feet steady as the nearly knocks out a tooth.

"Good," says Shai, walking by with a clipboard and scribbling something down. Around us, kids are either trying to build up the courage or already smacking their partner. One kid goes a little far with his hitting and he gets dragged out.

"So what's your name?" asks the girl, rubbing her still red cheek.

"Willow," I say, "And sorry about the slap. Your name?"

"I'm Lianne," she says, sticking her hands in her pockets. "Yeah I'm sort of used to it so whatever." She turns around and pushing some kid aside, walks away. I stare after her, biting my nails nervously. Used to it?

0o0

We spend the rest of the class learning about different types of guns, which by the end my stomach is grumbling and I feel like I could fall face plant onto the floor, but I make it to the dining room and sit down before I faint. I eat my mush, swallowing each bite with utter disgust. I long for one of dad's fresh loaves of bread, warm and soft with just a thin layer of butter on top. It's hard to get butter these days since there aren't as many animals as there used to be. Mom says my aunt had a cat once but after she died, the cat ran away and never came back. She says it so nonchalantly but I know about Prim.

I finish my food then just sit for a while, reading over some orientation stuff in my folder. The boy from earlier suddenly sits across from me yet again, holding a tray of food and shaking water from his hair.

"Come to ask me about suicide again?" I ask snappily, looking up to face him.

"Not this time," he says, tapping my empty tray. "I came to ask your name." My cheeks go red.

"Sorry," I say, "It's Willow."

"Willow Mellark?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Your dad is the new vice president right? And your mom, like, almost died stopping all that District crap?"

"Yeah, not that big of a deal," I say, turning the page in my folder. "At least I don't act like it is."

"No, that's cool," says the boy, "Anyway, I'm Aston. My dad isn't the VP, but he does make some killer mac and cheese." I give him a small smile but save the laugh for another time. I don't want to be known as the laughing weak girl. I have to be like my mom. Strong. Aston stares at me for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between mine, like he's trying to figure me out. I self-consciously touch my honey colored braid, my other hand going to my protruding cheekbone. I've always been small, but my mom says she was too since she didn't get much food then. I get good food now, but I work it off too fast and I'm too skinny.

"What?" I finally say. He shakes his head and looks down at his food, pushing the gray stuff to the side.

"Why is your hair all wet?" I ask.

"I took a shower."

"You still smell like sweat."

"I went swimming then?" I just roll my eyes and keep reading, focusing on the most interesting part of the gun; the trigger.

0o0


	2. Chapter 2

Late that night, I get bored trying to sleep in the new place and sneak out into the elevator, jabbing the button to take me down to the training center. I know I shouldn't be out alone, especially at night, but what can really hurt me? I go inside the clean space, stepping over to the wall of weapons. Each one painted black and filled with ammo looks threatening in the dim light of the room. I know my mother was handy with a bow, but I decide to try a small knife. I want to learn how to be amazing like her, which means my only choice is to practice extra. I grip the handle in my sweaty palm, stepping in front of a circular target. I flick my wrist like I've seen in old films before and it flies forward, tapping against the wall with a ping and flying back. I pick it up off the floor and try again with the same result.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I whirl around to a male's voice, harsh and angry.

"Practicing," I say, my voice trembling. I'm not used to getting in trouble; I was always the good girl at home. The boy steps out of the shadows, a lot taller than I and his face much more menacing than the scowl I can muster sometimes. He has brown hair with a long blonde streak through it and he's wearing the usual uniform, but with a strange metal pin on his sleeve that I can't see since he's standing far off. But I do see his muscles, stretching the length of his shirt, covered in ugly scars.

"You're not supposed to be out alone," he growls, tossing his own knife in the air and catching it by the blade.

"Sorry," I mumble, walking back to the weapons and setting the knife on its shelf. "I just need to get better."

"You have weeks for that," is all he says before making a quick turn and slamming a knife straight bulls eye into the target from ten feet away. I run out before he sees me gaping.

0o0

"Have you met anyone else yet?" asks Aston, who politely volunteered to eat lunch across the table from me.

"Not exactly," I say, "I had to slap that girl Lianne's face, and then I got in trouble the other night with some Mr. Muscles."

"Who, Flint?" Aston turns and points across the room to the brown haired boy, just getting a tray of food.

"Yes, him," I say, my eyes almost stuck on his cameo jacket.

"Yeah, he's been here his whole life," says Aston, turning back and scooping up his food with a spoon. "He was born and raised. Someone told me he could hit a knife on the target dead on by the time he was ten."

"How do you know all this?"

"I listen," he says simply, taking a bite of his goop. I look back at Flint who has sat down in the corner, scooping the sludge type food into his mouth and looking over some paper.

"Does he work here?"

"Sort of," says Aston, "I think his mom does. You know, Annie Odair? His dad died like forever ago, before he was born."

"Oh." Is all I say. I finish my food and we head back to the training room, ready to hold my first gun.

0o0

Richie clicks the bullet into place while everyone covers their ears. I hear someone scoff and see Flint across the room, leaning against a beam and watching us. Richie whips around towards a target and shoots it without hesitation, the noise shaking me in my boots. Someone swears loudly and another kid hits him.

"Okay, who's first?" Reggie holds up the gun, bullet pointed towards the ceiling. I try to squeeze into the crowd, backing away from the front. Some kid with a Mohawk shrugs and climbs up to the boxing mat, taking the gun from Reggie. He also, without hesitation, shoots the target, far from the middle but at least hitting it. The sound makes me want to scream. There is scattered applause as he walks back to his place, smiling cockily but holding one of his ears in pain.

"You," says Reggie, pointing a thick finger at me. My heart jumps into my throat.

"You're Katniss' Everdeen's daughter, aren't you?" I manage a nod. He beckons me up and everyone parts, leaving a wide path for me to step through.

"Let's see your aim Everdeen," he says, even though that is not my last name. I take the gun from him with shaking hands, my cheeks going red as I step up to the mat and hold it in front of me. I click the bullet into place and hold out my arms, pulling the tiny trigger with my finger. I focus on the target and BAM. The gun jolts in my hand and I drop it as the bullet zings out and hits the wall, sinking into it with a crack.

"Guess good aim doesn't run in the family," says Reggie, scowling as he picks up the gun. I go back to my spot shamefully, cheeks on fire and hands sweating. I can't bear to look at Aston or Flint, so I stare at my boots, feeling like I can't possibly be Katniss' daughter.

0o0

Our next training exercise is in a huge pool, each of us in matching black swimsuits, diving into the frigid water to test our swimming abilities. Since I've never had swim lessons or even done much in a pool besides float around, I am nervous to try this task. I jump in, the cold shooting through my body like sharp prickles of pain and numbness.

"We keep it cold to keep your adrenaline going," says Reggie, passing me with a smirk on his face. Obviously I'm not the favorite. I tread the water slowly, trying to warm up my body before the leader snaps at us to get started on laps. Aston swims away from me, some guy calling his name. I duck my head underwater with a deep breath, coming back up gasping for breath as the cold stings my head.

"Swim to the end. MOVE IT EVERYONE!" snarls Reggie and I kick off the wall, swimming for my life. I try to tread gracefully but eventually all I can do is go fast with a lot of mistakes. I run out of breath halfway down the pool but I keep pushing, getting my head up when I can. The cold water is giving me a headache and I can't think straight. The wall is ahead but how far? I reach for it, trying to stop myself from colliding into the cold side. I finally grip it and hold on, dragging myself from the water and standing up on the edge. I'm second to last, the end kid some skinny guy with glasses and slicked back hair.

"If you were swimming from an enemy," hisses Reggie, dragging the kid from the water and holding him so their faces are only an inch apart. "You .dead." He releases him and turns round, facing the group. "Well, stop standing around and go again! Go go go!"

0o0

_Dear mom and dad,_

_How are you guys? Is work still taking a long time every day? I know you said you had a lot of threats to work with, so I guess it's good I'm here out of your way and learning. It's hard to fit in here at first but I think my teacher is really warming up to me and I even made a few friends who are really supportive. The food isn't as bad as I thought it would be and I'm getting stronger every day despite being born small. _

_Miss you guys,  
Willow_

Lies, lies, lies, my brain whispers as I put the letter in an envelope and slap a stamp on the back. I just shake the thoughts away and stuff the note under my pillow. I'll mail it tomorrow. I think about how devastated my parents would be if they knew their daughter was failing practically every test and becoming the teacher's least favorite. Well except for maybe glasses kid. I change into a big t-shirt, curling up in my thin quilt and watching everyone else get ready for bed. Someone walks over and I sit up, glancing up at the face. It's Lianne, the girl who I had to slap. One of her friends is beside her; a muscled girl with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Hey Everdeen," says Lianne, giving a little snort. "Nice job in training today." I realize what they're trying to do as I note her sarcastic tone.

"My last name is not Everdeen," I say, keeping my eyes on her ugly toes.

"Oh right, because you get to decide," she says, grabbing my face with her hand. "You get to decide because you're some snobby VP's daughter?" Her thumbs dig into my skin while the girl behind her chuckles to herself. A few kids stop to watch.

"Please leave me alone," I say, trying to stop tears from filling my eyes. This isn't right. Someone needs to get her hand off me. I know I can't take her in a fight but I'd rather her punch me than this chilling anger in her eyes, her disgusting breath filling my nostrils.

"Oh look she has manners," she says mockingly, "Too bad she can't shoot like dear old mummy." She releases my face and turns around, walking towards the bathrooms. Aston runs over while I rub my sore cheeks, still fighting off tears.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine," I say. I don't mention that he could've helped. I don't want to seem weak.

"I saw her threaten to cut someone the other day," he says as if that helps. I just nod and lie down like I'm ready to sleep. Finally when I drift off, nightmares plague me the whole night, screaming wicked things in Lianne's voice. What did I ever do to her?

0o0

A/N

Review and tell me what you think so far. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up to a loud rumble and someone yelling. The air smells like smoke but I don't register this until I open my eyes, seeing people panicking.

"Thunder?" someone shouts, but they sound scared. I jump out of bed, grabbing a pair of leggings and pulling them on over my shorts.

"What's going on?" says Aston running over, his eyes wide with fear.

"I have no idea," I say. Then it clicks in my brain. Bombs. I shout it as soon as it clings to my mind, "It could be bombs; we need to get everyone out." Someone starts crying and I look to Aston for help. He climbs onto the top bunk at once, standing up in his pajamas.

"EVERYONE CALM DOWN!" Silence falls except over the crying girl. "We need to get out, it could be bombs." Someone screams as another rumble fills the room, shaking dust from the cracks in the walls. Suddenly, the door flies open and Reggie runs in, wielding a gun.

"Everyone under your bunks!" he shouts, "Now!" We scramble to squeeze ourselves under the bunks, my chest barely able to process air as I lie down. I look back at the crying girl, who is telling someone that she cannot move. She's terrified. Aston is in the one across from me his eyes staring at me, his pupils dilated in terror. It makes my own panic starting to climb its way up into my brain.

"Just hold on," I mouth, reaching my hand out to him. He grips my fingers, sweat slipping them away. The room is utterly silent, with only the small shakes of the stone and the sound of Reggie's boots as he paces across the room, gun to his chest. I don't know how long we lie there, barely breathing, never moving. The explosions become less and the smoky smell is gone, but we still can't get up. The crying girl is hunched under a bed, holding in her sobs with her hand to her mouth. The lights go out completely and someone cries out. Reggie just shushes them. My chest is starting to hurt and I don't know much longer I can stay under here.

Then the lights come on and I can't hear anything rumbling. Reggie looks calmer and he even sets his gun down, ordering us to come out.

"That," he says, leaning against one of the bunks. "Was a test." I see kids gasping for air, but even them stop to protest.

"SHUT UP!" yells Reggie, his voice hoarse. "You-" he points to the girl who was crying, who is now holding her stomach and coughing "-come with me. Everyone else, get used to these sorts of tests. We have a simulator which will keep the rumbles going until all of you learn to control yourself. Now get dressed and go to breakfast." He wrenches the girl from the crowd, his thick hand clasped round her arm. She is sobbing again. Everyone is silent as they take their clothes and go to the bathrooms to change. Not even Lianne looks me in the eye, her hands shaking around her bottle of lotion. I'm not cruel or brave enough to tease her about it. Besides, mine are shaking too.

0o0

I still can't shake the smell of smoke from my mind, remembering the creeping fear I swallowed down as I held Aston's hand and tried to keep my breathing going. The lights in the dining room flicker once and almost all the new kids flinch. The older kids just laugh and go back to their gray mush. I just move mine around, not able to eat since my stomach feels so pressured.

"You okay?" asks Aston, "You seem out of breath."

"Chest hurts," I say simply, running a hand through my hair. "That was terrifying."

"Yeah," he says, "I thought I was going to die. I would never see my dad again..." I think about how my parents would react to knowing I died in a bombing. I stop thinking about it at once. We all head to the training room after breakfast and I notice that Flint has come in to watch again. Lianne is back to her old self, pushing me aside to be at the front of the crowd.

"You were all pitiful this morning," says Reggie, standing on top of the boxing mat and cracking his knuckles. "Like weak little babies." I notice that the crying girl is not here anymore. I don't ask why.

"So today," he says, "We will spend the next two hours, punching and kicking at boxing bags until your knuckles bleed and your feet snap in half." He turns quickly slamming his fist into a newly hung punching bag. I run over to one, which happens to be right next to where Flint is standing. He keeps his eyes on me but he looks bored. I take the first punch, pain stinging my knuckles and hand. I just hit it again, this time with my left hand. Eventually Flint walks away to watch someone else. I kick and punch until my muscles scream in pain and I run out of energy. I see a few other kids have already given up and are being screamed at by Reggie. I punch harder, my hair starting to stick to my sweaty forehead. Flint comes back after a while, helping me silently by holding the bag. He doesn't smile but something amusing dance in his bright eyes.

"Is this funny?" I snap, regretting it as soon as I say it.

"Hilarious," he says. I feel like we're alone again in the night, standing feet away in the training room. It wasn't a good moment or anything, but at least he's not yelling now.

"Why is that?" I punch it again, releasing some of my anger. My skin breaks on my knuckles.

"You've been here for about five days," he says, "And you still haven't given up. Your mom and dad were from District 12, and now they're the biggest celebrities around. You could skip the whole army thing and just be rich with them."

"It's law to join the army."

"Your parents practically make the law." I don't answer him, just kick the bag harder. "So wouldn't you rather be at the mansion?" I weigh my options. Live like a princess or work hard to help.

"I think being rich wouldn't suit me," I say, finally stopping to rub my bleeding knuckles. "We lived in a cottage for most of my life." He just shrugs and releases the bag.

"I'm glad," he says, turning and walking over to Reggie. I watch him go, his arms swinging nonchalantly by his side. Maybe he isn't a stuck up jerk.

0o0

After lunch we get a free afternoon, but Reggie advises us to practice more. I hear a few kids scoff and they leave the training room at once, but Aston and I stick around, taking turns throwing knives at a target.

"I want to get better," I tell him, "For my mom."

"How much does she tell you about her past?"

"Not very much," I admit, my cheeks going red. "We're close but anytime I bring up the subject, she just sort of shoots it down."

"Well I heard it was awful," he says, "I've only read a few things in books. Flint's dad was a huge role in the rebellion you know." I glance over at Flint's usual place, just to the right of the boxing mat. He's standing there with his arms crossed, watching a boy wrestle with another. I turn back and throw another knife, this one landing right on the edge of the target.

"God I'm awful," I say, changing the subject from the slightly attractive boy across the room. The thought makes me want to gag. There isn't time for love in a war.

"You just need more practice," says Aston, "And maybe stop staring at boys." He turns and walks away before I can retort with a lie. Yes, I was gazing at Flint but it's not like it'll ever happen. My reputation and my looks are enough to scare a guy off. I'm not the picture perfect girls I've seen in the books of tributes. I'm plain, with my father and mother's hair mixed in a honey color reaching to my hips. My skin is pale like my mom's, my eyes blue like my dad's. I'm just me. I don't think anyone could find me remotely pretty, and definitely never beautiful.

I throw one more knife (and miss) before following Aston out of the training room and down the hall.

"Where are you going?" I ask, running to catch up to his side.

"To the library," he says, a playful smile on his lips.

"There isn't a library; I checked when we first arrived."

"Oh isn't there?" He heads off towards the dormitories and inside to the bunk filled room, heading to his bed. He reaches under his bed and pulls out a tote bag, filled with about ten books.

"Oh my god," I whisper, "They let you have all those?" When I read the rules before I arrived, they were strict on no personal possessions, apparently because in an emergency, they wouldn't want us to be attached to anything and run back for it.

"Well, I sort of snuck them in," he says, the tips of his ears going red. "They searched our luggage, but I lied and said I threw up on this bag on the way. Nerves, you know? Well the lady's face went sort of green and she just waved me on. I never thought it would work!"

"Wow," I say, actually surprised he managed to do it. "Can I see a few?"

"Here's the best," he says, "_The Old Capitol: A History. _It's got tons of stuff on your mom, like, insider information even you might not know. Your dad too." I am scared to read it all but I take the book now, leaving the decision for later. It's heavy and big, with a lot of water damage and many tears, but I handle it with care and get it under my pillow safely.

"Thanks," I say, "I'll read it later."

"Be careful, could be some stuff I haven't read in there that's worse than we can imagine." I just nod. We head back towards the training room but down a darkened hallway, we are stopped by an official looking woman with a silver badge sporting a small bird

"You need to come with me," she says, gripping my arm none too gently. Aston gives me a worried look but I just shrug as if it is nothing and follow the woman down a new hallway with brighter lighting. But the nonchalant feeling I had at first is gone as my heart jumps into my throat and my palms start to sweat. The woman has released my arm but the grave look on her face is enough to keep me from running off. I can't calm my nerves, so I focus on her face, trying to decipher her character. Sharp features, with pale skin and big brown eyes. She could be more relaxed, since now her hair is pulled straight back, combed to perfection and tightened into a seamless bun on the back of her head, just above the nape of her neck. Her dark green collar goes to her neck and her veins in her hands pop, like she is shooting guns daily.

Finally, the fear has to crawl back as I have nothing left to distract myself. We reach a small wooden door, just like the others we have passed recently in the hall. She knocks twice, her sharp knuckles looking like knives against the polished wood. Someone mumbles to come in and she opens the door. I fear the worst.

Then I see my mother.

I want to run into her arms. I want her to smile and tell me about dad. I want her to tell me how proud she is. But she just stands there in a military outfit, her normally braided hair pulled back in an ugly ponytail, her eyebrows narrowed in a mix of hurt and confusion. I notice the man next to her, a chubby elder man with fuzzy gray hair and a matching military outfit to my mom's.

"Miss Mellark," says the man, scribbling something down on a paper. "This is indeed your mother?" My mom nods to signal how I should answer.

"Yes sir," I say. The woman is still standing by me, her forehead creased in solemnness.

"And," says the man, "She did not inform us of this, nor did she inform you that it would be kept private?"

"No sir she did not inform me of that," I say, my voice almost like a robots. I know he can tell how nervous I am as I avoid his eyes, looking around the office-type room.

"Well, I would just like to know, Miss Everdeen," he nods to my mother, "Why this happened?"

"I don't want her getting extra attention," says my mom like she's rehearsed it, "She was 50% of the decision to come here and she should just be another soldier no matter how wrong I think it is to put children in war."

"They are not children Miss Everdeen," hisses the man, his stomach bulging out a bit.

"She is to me." The man shakes his head sadly.

"I guess this was a misunderstanding," he says, "Please do not try and sneak children of this nature in without my consent, ever again."

"Yes sir," says my mother, teeth gritted. The man gestures for us to go and we leave, the tight-haired woman staying behind. I hear the door shut behind us and I explode.

"Why was he so upset? Why are you even here? And why did you try to sneak me in?!"

"Willow, none of that matters," she says, not looking at me. "What matters is that you stop lying to me and get through your training. Things aren't looking good and I want you somewhere safe."

"This is _safe_?!" I cry, screeching to a halt. She turns and places her hands roughly on my shoulders.

"You are the vice president's daughter," she snarls, her face livid. "And _my _daughter. Do you think it's safer up there, where the mansion will possibly be bombed someday? It's safe here, where you can't be kidnapped and you can't be killed unless put on the lines which I will _not _allow."

"You think I'm weak?" I spit out, barely able to contain my anger. "You think I'll get shot the minute I step outside these walls?"

"Right now," she says, her voice almost a whisper. "Yes, I do. Keep training and maybe someday you can actually learn to fight." Her words are worse than a bullet, making me cringe in shame. Then heat floods my cheeks and I push her aside; the first time I've been angry enough to hurt her. I know she won't run after me. There's nothing she can say.

She thinks I'm too weak to handle it all?

I'll show her.

0o0

A/N

Whew long chapter! Review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Aston gives me a confused look at dinner but I just shake my head and keep walking, mind filled with hurt and anger. I finally reach Flint's table, where he sits alone with a tray of food and a bag of lifting weights.

"You're one of the older kids right? So I want private lessons," I say, crossing my arms. "Any free afternoon or evening we get. Teach me how to fight better. He looks up, his expression slightly surprised.

"Why the sudden need to learn so much?"

"Doesn't matter why," I say, heat flooding my cheeks. "Please?"

"Fine," he says with a sigh, "After dinner, meet me in the training room." I almost smile but just give a short nod and go to get my tray.

0o0

I wait, leaning against the training room wall, hands stuffed in my pockets. Someone's cleaned it and the boxing mat smells like chemicals. I climb onto it and see our assignment for tomorrow. A target shaped like a human, with red circles for the most prominent areas. Head and chest. Yellow circles for arms and legs, and the wall around it is painted green. That's the worst. I see a big bag lying next to the target and take a peek. Poison darts. I pick one up, weighing it in my hand. I've read about these, one night, just moments before the library closed. I didn't sleep very well that night, imagining a person screaming as the burning poison fills their body and breaks their mind. I shudder now just thinking about it.

"Scared of a few darts?" asks Flint, coming up behind me.

"No," I say, pushing the bag aside and standing up. "Scared of failure."

"So is everyone."

"But there's a lot more pressure on me," I say, "With my parent's jobs."

"Oh yeah, Miss Celebrity," he says, picking up one of the darts and backing up to throw it. It hits the head dead-on.

"Can we start?" I say irritably. He nods and I follow him over to the weapons wall.

"Ever shot anyone?"

"No, I'm not stupid."

"It isn't stupid to have to shoot someone," he says, "Calm down." He grabs a machine gun off the wall and hands it to me. Then he goes over to the equipment closet and brings out a dummy, about two feet taller and wider than me.

"You expect me to shoot that?"

"His name is Ryan," says Flint.

"You named a mannequin?"

"No, the corporation did. Don't ask why, just shoot him. If you miss the bullet will go into the soft wall behind me." I hold up the gun with both hands, pulling the bullet into its place and bringing my hand to the trigger. The mannequin mocks me with it's dumb smile, it's fake eyes drooping in sadness. It's impossible to even shoot this straw filled thing.

"I can't," I mumble, my cheeks going warm.

"Stop stalling and go," says Flint, running a hand through his hair. I take a quick shuddering breath and with one eye squeezed shut, I pull that stupid trigger. I hear the assuring noise but the gun hits me with the backlash and I fall to the cold ground, landing on my back. I cringe in pain but that seems to be Flint's last worry as he shouts, "You hit him!" I pull myself up to a sitting position and look, seeing Ryan's straw penetrated by a bullet, right where his heart goes. My breath catches in my throat in a mix of accomplishment and guilt. Flint helps me up and takes my gun away, setting it back on the shelf.

"You're a fear student," he says, "You do best under pressure." I blink a few times, trying to process what he means.

"Then why didn't I do well with Reggie?"

"Not enough fear," he says, "Reggie is just a man and you know he can't kill you. The fear of disappointing him is far less great than the fear of having to stop another person's heart." His tough face is lit up with a small smile, his hand still on my wrist.

"Okay," is all I say, "Can we practice some punching now?"

0o0

I wake up panting, the faint wisp of a nightmare flying away. I've never had nightmares before. I try to recall the bad dream but all I can remember is a lot of fire and a bird. We are called to the training room before breakfast. The lights are dimmed and a video projector is set up. Everyone sits on the floor by their friends, but Aston is laughing with some other kid so I sit alone.

"Today we are showing you some possibly unnerving images," says Reggie, standing in front of the screen. "If you can't handle it, get out." No one moves a muscle. He goes back to the computer and taps a few buttons. Then the Old Capitol seal appears on the screen, with an anthem I don't recognize. 

"_The Capitol," _says the announcer. An image of a beautiful city comes on screen, with my new home, the mansion, towering above it all. _"Always and forever standing tall, with our great President to guide us." _The scene switches to President Craz, a thin dark haired man; our first president. _"We trust in him to keep us safe. Which is why there is a new order. Every year there will be a reaping. A reaping in which twenty four children over the age of thirteen shall be placed in a an arena to fight to the death." _It shows a few solemn looking children, all in war-torn places. _"Let's keep Panem safe." _The screen goes black for a moment. It was an old video. Over eighty years. They must have pulled a lot of strings to find it.

Suddenly, a beautiful girl with glowing blonde hair and long eyelashes is shown on screen, standing next to a Capitol woman with green hair, right in front of the Justice building of District seven. Captions show up below: _Cassandra White, 13 years old, District 7. _

"Is she a victor?" someone whispers. Reggie shushes them, but not in a nasty way. The scene changes to the girl at her interview, wearing a long pink dress and smiling like she has no other place to be. She is magnificently beautiful; she must have won on her looks. The interviewer (an elderly man with messy green hair and tattoos over his face) asks her what her tactics are in the arena.

"I guess I don't know yet," she says. Her voice is as smooth as butter and I hear a few men in the audience of the stage sigh. "I just really want to win for my father. He's struggling with the death of my mother and my two brothers." The crowd sounds sympathetic but anger surges through me. Fakers, all of them. The scene changes again but this time the camera is shaky and Cassandra isn't in a silk dress. She's in a tribute outfit, a white t-shirt and black shorts, with great running shoes and a knife in her pocket. She looks prepared, holding a bag of food in one hand and her other clasped round her pocket.

"_With only her and Richie Anderson from District 2, who will be the victor of the 15__th__ Hunger Games?" _Seven and two. That's a big difference between Districts. Cassandra (or Cassie as the announcer calls her), looks perfectly ready, hunting down her enemy with a few strategies like sniffing branches and looking for small prints of shoes. Someone in the training room gives a gasp as suddenly Richie comes up from behind, holding his machete and yelling wildly. He pins her down, raising the knife.

"C'mon Cassie," I whisper. I take a glance around and see everyone else is on the edge of their seats, watching the blonde girl struggle against the weight of the boy. But it's too late. Richie takes his first stab, right into her heart. Someone bursts into tears. The beautiful girl, just ruined. But the boy hasn't had enough. He stabs everywhere he can reach; her face, her chest, even her legs. Each stab equals a grunt from him, no mercy on his filthy face. The hovercraft eventually picks her up and declares him a winner. Then Reggie turns it off. He steps back up onto the boxing mat, his face grim and his eyes almost look tearful.

"Her father killed himself two days after her death," he says simply, like he's stating the weather. "They found his body in a river, holding a picture of her." A few people are crying, but I just hold back my tears and listen.

"This is what the world used to be like," he says, "Districts 1 and 2 were born and trained to kill. Every murder they committed was like that." He fishes a remote from his pocket and taps a button. Another kill. A red headed boy shooting a girl with a gun from a tree. Then again. And again.

"That's just sick," says someone.

"It's disgusting," agrees Reggie, "But this is what we are fighting. There are people out there who want this to keep happening. Who want the Hunger Games. Who want every single child to live in fear that someday their lives will be taken in such a way. But no more. The oncoming threats won't win over us because I know that even if I treat you all like horrible people, you have it in you to take them down and keep justice settled." He turns off the screen again. "You can go to breakfast." My heart pounding, I stand up on shaky legs and hurry over to Aston, who has tears in his eyes and his hands are shaking. I grip one, feeling the bile rising in my throat.

"M-my mom died in the Hunger Games," he says softly so no one nearby will hear. "It was right after I was born, when she was seventeen. Her name got called and no one volunteered. My dad couldn't. She died after the first fifteen minutes." I don't know why he's telling me this now, but I listen and nod, holding his hand even tighter.

"We won't let that ever happen to anyone again," I whisper. And I know I mean it.

0o0


	5. Chapter 5

Time seems to pass all too quickly as training becomes harder and we get more and more lectures from Reggie. We have another bombing drill, just as worse as the other, except this time Lianne comes and laughs at me for being a baby. I hold back the impulse to break her nose. She has been bothering me a lot more and without any knowledge to Reggie or the staff. She flips up my tray so my food falls off, or pretends to help by holding my punching back but releasing it at the last moment. I guess I look foolish and weak and not like someone is purposely attacking me.

Private lessons are the only time I can really relax and focus on my training without the fear of her. Flint helps me a lot and we stay in there usually until everyone else is gone. He's starting to reveal more and one night he tells me about his family.

"My dad died trying to save your parents," he says as we restock all of the guns (I try to help with his chores too).

"I know," I say, my voice breaking. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he says, "I never knew him. Doesn't hurt so much now." He shoves a bullet with a lot of force, his hand slipping off and dropping the gun. He just swears under his breath and stares at the floor, not even trying to keep the conversation going.

"It must be hard," I say softly, "Trying to help your mom."

"Do you think she's crazy?" he looks up, his eyes piercing mine.

"N-no," I say, "Is she?"

"She was," he says, "Really unstable."

"Flint, why are you telling me all this? You barely know me."

"I don't know," he sighs, "I trust you I guess. I just see you and think that you're the kind of person to keep a secret." He turns his body towards me, guns forgotten. Thoughts jumble around my head. Is he going to kiss me? But he just stands up and helps me to my feet.

"Dinner," he mumbles. And leaves.

0o0

I am still trying to decipher exactly what happened earlier while I eat my dinner, but a distraction in the shape of a guard comes to me.

"Reggie would like to see you in the training room," she says. I nod, my nerves suddenly on edge. Am I in trouble? I leave the dining room, giving Aston a reassuring smile and heading down the hallway towards the training room. I've been here for two weeks and I'm getting to know the place better, but I always want to explore more. I have a thirst for knowledge, no matter where I am. But I still can't bear to read the Old Capitol book. I turn and head into the room, seeing Reggie standing in the middle, his hands in his pockets and his head bent low.

"Sir?" I stand in front of him, far enough so I can run (though I'm not sure why I'd need to) but close enough to see his face clearly.

"Everdeen," he says, looking up. He looks grim, but not his usual face; something deeper in his eyes tell me this is serious. "We need to talk."

"Yes sir." He scratches at his stubbly beard, like he can produce words from it.

"There was an attack on the mansion last night," he says. My breath catches in my throat. He goes on. "About thirty to forty soldiers poured in, all armed with explosives and guns. They didn't get very far, but your dad happened to be outside with a guest and he...was shot." _I will not cry. I will not cry._ I nod because I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'll throw up or start sobbing violently.

"He's alive," says Reggie, "But he's in critical care at the hospital. They shot very close to the heart and a few times in the legs. He may never walk again they said."

"Can I see him?" I croak, dignity forgotten as tears spill down my cheeks. I know my teacher won't comfort me but I wish someone would. I can't control myself.

"Not yet."

"When?" My words come quick and cruel, as if I am demanding it.

"In a few days. He's still unconscious." He looks down at the floor again. I wipe my cheeks harshly with my hands, internally slapping myself for crying.

"Thank you sir," I say, straightening up and turning around. I leave the training center, my cheeks on fire and my heart heavy. Why dad? Couldn't they move here, where it's safe? _But it's only safe if they're unidentified soldiers, _whispers the voice in my head. This causes me to burst into a new set of tears and I find a dark hallway to be alone in, knees tucked to my chest, and head bent low. I could be there for hours, I don't know, but all I care is that my dad may never walk and may die and it just feels like it's all my fault.

0o0

A/N

Reviews are appreciated! :)


	6. Chapter 6

I spend the next few days burying myself in training, trying not to think about dad's new injury. Flint notices I'm stressed and confronts me after private lessons one day.

"Your fighting skills are getting better," he says softly, sharpening a long machete while he talks. I refill some of the guns, not looking him in the eye.

"Are you angry at me?" he asks.

"No," I say quickly, shaking my head fast. "It's…family problems."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not at all." He nods slowly then goes back to his job. A new feeling of guilt crashes into me as I realize that I'm not paying him back for telling me secrets. But no one should know about this. I don't know the power of rumors in this place and I don't know if I can trust Flint yet.

"Sorry," I mutter, setting the gun on its shelf. "I gotta go." I spend the rest of the night lying in bed and listening to everyone getting ready to sleep. I know I won't drift off for a long time but I pretend anyway, staying on my guard for Lianne. I know Aston realizes my quietness but leaves me alone for my own sake. Also I would probably snap if he asked. I roll over and squeeze my eyes shut, blocking off any oncoming tears. I won't be a child.

0o0

But Flint corners me again. And again. Every day after private lessons, he asks me what's wrong. I argue and push him away, trying to focus on planning a visit to the hospital with Reggie. Finally I get a day off and I am taken in a hovercraft to the New Capitol Hospital, where as Reggie tells me, there are only twenty nurses.

"How will they take care of everyone when a war starts?" I say, rubbing my cold arms.

"They won't," he says simply, "Or they'll try. We're trying to recruit more nurses but most people are interested in the fighting part and most aren't certified."

"More interested in fighting?"

"They think they're brave," he scoffs, "But they don't understand. At least you've gotten this far." I nod, keeping my eyes to the floor. The hovercraft lands on top of the hospital, opening up the huge doors to the roof. I hurry out, Reggie marching in front of me, his gun strapped around his back. My hands are shaking as I touch the gun on my belt, my fingers running over the familiar cool metal. I wonder if my mother will be here; but considering our last meeting, I almost don't want to have to confront her.

We go inside the building and into a small white hallway with dim lights. The doors are offices at first with names on the small metal plaques and shiny gold handles. We are escorted by a guard into a shaky elevator with bright buttons and a small light bulb that makes my skin look pale and ghostly. The lift rattles as it flies down towards the third floor; right to intensive care. The doors pull open and we step out into the clean hallway, a nurse smiling and guiding us to a closed door.

"He's doing much better," she says, her complicated hairstyle shaking on her head. "Miss Mellark is here as well." My heart jumps in an anticipating and nervous way. The nurse opens the door to a dimly lit room with a big window and several chairs surrounding a cot with wires hooked up to it. I swallow my fear as my mother looks up and sees me come in. My father, who I am almost too scared to look at it, is lying in the bed, his eyes open and a smile dancing on his face.

"Hey there," he says. I give a small wave. My mom stares at me, looking a little confused and also kind of sad.

"I didn't know you were coming today," she says, her voice bristling. The woe from her face vanishes, replaced with loathing. I just shrug and lean down by my dad.

"Hi," I say, "How are you feeling?" He slips his hand in mine and smiles again.

"Wonderful now that you're here," he says.

"Don't be corny, dad," I manage a small grin before glancing back at my mother. She is talking to the nurse in a low voice, gesturing towards my father once in a while.

"Did it hurt?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, but this sort of thing has happened before," he says, "How's training?"

"Alright," I say, shrugging. "They keep showing us old Hunger Games. It's really disturbing." A little of the color drains from dad's face.

"Yeah, those weren't good," he says simply, leaning back into his pillow. We talk for a few more minutes, Reggie even coming over to introduce himself. I realize how dad must see Reggie as a lower man on the totem pole but he doesn't treat him like one. They don't discuss the threats or even dad's injury, but simple things like training and the kids.

Finally it's time to go and I still haven't talked to my mother. I almost want her to pull me aside to apologize but I keep my chin up and walk past her without a word. Dad waves as I go and I try to wave back but the tears are welling up. This won't be the first time I'll see him or mom in a hospital bed. Unless I learn to protect them.

0o0


	7. Chapter 7

"This is a grenade," Reggie stands in front of us, his hand wrapped around a small tube shaped item. "You pull this out-" he pops out the small string "-throw it, and it blows up anything in a diameter of fifteen to twenty feet around it."

"Why did you pull out the string?" cries Lianne. Reggie just smiles and throws it down on the floor. I gasp loudly, but it simply hits the floor and rolls away.

"That was a fake," he says with a sigh. "You will each get ten fake ones and you need to practice throwing them from one end of the room to the other. If you can hit the other wall, you're probably going to live. If you can't, that explosion will be too close in real life." He passes out the grenades, each one filled with some sort of rocks. Everyone runs to the back, facing the wall with the targets about twenty feet away.

"GO!" yells Reggie. I pull out the string, then stretch back my arm and throw it forward. It hits the ground, bounces a few inches and then stops about five feet from the wall.

"Dead," mutters Reggie, walking by. I scowl and try another. It goes right and lands about six feet from the wall. I look at the others and see everyone is focusing hard, throwing only when they're sure. I throw the rest of mine, the closest getting about three feet close.

"You are all DEAD!" shouts Reggie, "Go to lunch!"

0o0

I sit with Aston at lunch, who asks me about my private lessons.

"I noticed you one night after dinner," he says, "Getting cozy with Flint?"

"Oh shut up," I say, my cheeks going red. "He's just my teacher. And he's just trying to hide from rebels, same as me. There isn't much time for friendships."

"Am I your friend?"

"Well of course you are," I say, "But you also aren't trying to help me stay alive in the battlefield. I can't add extra things onto learning that." I push my tray away and stand up. "We have a free afternoon, so I'm going to train alone."

"Have fun," he answers, rolling his eyes slightly. I just shake my head with a smile and leave the cafeteria. I pass Reggie on the way, who is mumbling to a guard with a worried look on his face. I know the rebels are getting more dangerous. It must only be a matter of time before they attack, with greater numbers and have a bigger war. I wonder if I'll be fighting in that war. I head into the training room, finding Flint there at a punching bag splattered with blood.

"Flint!" My cheeks heat up since I was just talking about him, but those thoughts fly away as I see his knuckles bleeding out fully. I run to him and pull away the punching bag.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cry. He looks up at me, face covered in sweat and tears. Something is seriously wrong.

"Come here," I say, taking his hand tenderly. I lead him over to one the folding chairs and sit him down, getting on my knees so I can look at his hands.

"Jesus," I whisper, eyeing the wounds. "What did you do to yourself?" He takes a few deep breaths, wiping the mess off his face with his clean fingers.

"I tried to take a nap," he says, his whole body shaking. "But I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask softly.

"I saw my dad died," he whispers, "I've never been able to imagine those lizard things before but the dream made them up for me...it was so awful." I don't know what to say. I help him up from the chair and over to the first aid. I clean the blood first, then apply some bandages and give him a wet wipe for his face.

"Thank you," he says, placing his hand on mine.

"Don't do that to yourself again," I answer, "And remember, nightmares can't conjure up what really happened." He nods.

"Sorry you had to see me like this," he mutters, "I'm usually not such a baby."

"I know you aren't." Without thinking, I place the smallest of kisses on his cheek, my hands wrapping around his bandaged ones. Then I turn and run, body on fire with embarrassment. I don't really know where I'm going, but through the blindness of my tears, I make it to an abandoned hallway with a big stone door. I throw it open and run out, but my feet find nothing to grip-

and I'm falling.


	8. Chapter 8

My feet catch ground and I realize I'm in a metal pit. My toes burn with the sting of impact and I bring my head up to look around. There's nothing but a small ladder going up to the door I fell out of.

"What the hell-?"

"Willow!" Aston is at the top, looking scared. "You okay? I saw you run."

"I'm fine," I say, "What is this?" He takes a hesitant step down the ladder, then just hops down and walks over.

"It looks like some sort of prison," he says, "No windows or anything."

"Well it's not like there really are windows around here anyway," I point out.

"C'mon, I don't think we should be here."

"Calm down," I say, running a hand along the smooth wall. Then he grips my wrist.

"Let go!" I snap, whirling around to face him. He just puts a finger to his lip, then gestures to the ceiling. A small hole has opened up at the top and something is pouring out of it. Something black, and small...then I recognize the little red spots on them- Black Widows. Aston curses under his breath as they crawl out, smashed together to take up as much space as possible. They go across the ceiling, making the quietest noise with their little legs.

"We need to go," I whisper. _"Now." _My body starts to itch as the spiders get closer, coming down the walls of the circular room. Aston doesn't move, his eyes staring at the closed door. Then I take action. I grab Aston's arm, dragging him to the ladder and up it; banging on the door as soon as I reach it.

"Let us out!" my raised voice awakes the spiders even more and they move faster, coming down the wall and towards the sealed door. I bang harder, my fist starting to hurt and my fingers slipping on Aston's arm, who is trying to get as far away as he can from the eight legged creatures.

"HELP!" I scream. One spider gets to my hand, sending a shiver down my arm. I shake it off, keeping my fist slamming against the door. More crawl onto my hand but I shake them off in groups until I feel a ferocious bite. My breathing immediately becomes harsh and red crawls up my arm. The Widows drop from their place on the wall, all flying towards us on their silvery webs. I give the door another pound before feeling my eyes glue themselves shut and my hand ungrasp from Aston. I hit the floor with a slam, my body begging for sleep.

And I let it.

0o0

I wake up to the taste of bile in my throat and realize I have thrown up several times while unconscious. I spit over the side of the bed, taking a quick glance around at the white sheeted hospital room. My whole body feels sore so I don't even try to get up. I look at my hand which is covered in red welts.

"Hey," Without me hearing, Flint has materialized by my bed, his hand gripped around a small wet towel. I don't try and speak since the puke has made my throat burn like fire. I give him a small smile. He takes his towel and wipes down my forehead with it, those dark eyes of his meeting mine as he does it.

"You fell in the Interrogation Pit," he says, "Don't know who left it unlocked. It's the place where they take criminals- or will. They have three things that they send after them, all fatal but dumbed down so they can't really kill the person. The spiders are genetically engineered to make the person feel the pain of the bite but not actually die. There's a suffocation one. And a gun. All make you unconscious."

"That's awful," I manage to say, my words coming out like a croak. "You can't torture people like that. And who would leave something like that unlocked?"

"We have to," he answers, "It's war Willow...my theory is someone is trying to kill you. Someone here, working for the rebels who wants the Districts back. I heard they're even getting a new President- like Snow- to lead them. Lucky for them, they didn't know the Interrogation Room wasn't deadly." I try to distract myself from his horrible words, focusing on his knuckles. Bruised and red. Tears threaten to fill my eyes as I remember yesterday. I fight memories away.

"If someone is trying to kill me..." I say, "Don't you think they'd want information first?"

"I don't know," he answers, "For now, you need to heal and not worry about it. Oh and Aston is alright too." I feel stupid for not asking, but I was a little sidetracked by Flint's eyes.

0o0

I go back into training a day later, my hands bandaged up and Aston's bites all tended to. We sit at breakfast, getting stares from everyone, even the older kids.

"I don't like this," mutters Aston, "We must look like freaks."

"I think we probably look brave or something," I admit, "No one here has bandages or injuries; not even the older ones." He just nods, pushing around the mush on his plate. After we eat, it's more training. Today we go outside for the first time in months, each holding a large gun and squinting in the sunlight; facing a huge target.

"Your bullets are each colored," says Reggie, dark sunglasses pulled over his cold eyes. "Check them now, then we will be able to tell who gets closest. Whoever wins gets a cookie with their lunch." With all the unnamable mush for food, a cookie sounds amazing. Everyone checks their bullets and start shooting at once, each one wanting that treat. I see mine are blue and lock my gun into place, holding it tight in my hands. I have to hope it won't push me back this time. I pull the trigger, aiming for the bulls eye. I can't tell where it lands since everyone else is shooting but I'll know soon enough. Eight bullets later, Reggie goes to the closest one, right by the bullseye and pops it out.

"You should all have one bullet left," he says, "Pop it out and if your color is pink, you get the cookie." Someone gives a shout and I turn to see Lianne, waving her pink bullet from her gun.

"Excellent," says Reggie, "See me after lunch." I swear under my breath, tossing the gun aside and marching back in. I know I shouldn't be this upset but why did it have to be _her? _

0o0

A/N

Reviews are appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

More nightmares plague me, flitting in and out of my good dreams to attack my parents, or Aston. I never see Flint, for which I'm grateful, but it's painful enough to see him during the day. One morning after breakfast, I decide to explore around but instead of a peaceful walk, I stumble in on Flint and his mother, who is sobbing hysterically in his arms. I duck back around the corner before either of them sees me, but I can still hear Flint trying to talk to her.

"It's alright," he coos, "It was just a dream." I swallow hard, wondering how terrible a nightmare could be to make someone go off like that. I want to help but I know Flint will just push me away. I walk back down the hallway, my feet barely making a sound until I break into a run and zip into the Training Room. I stop to catch my breath and sit down on the boxing mat, my arms curled round my chest and knees tucked in.

"Get up," Reggie is standing above me, "We need to move."

0o0

I don't know what's happening as he drags me by my arm and down the hall towards the hovercraft deck. I don't dare ask, but then I hear someone scream and start to think the worst.

"Rebels are attacking," he says, "We have to get you out of here; it's not safe." Anger fills me suddenly.

"No!" I wrench my arm away, standing still. "I'm not a coward!"

"No but you are Katniss Everdeen's daughter," he says, trying to grab me again. I jump away.

"I don't care; I want to fight," I snap, "I'm much better. I can shoot a gun."

"But can you kill someone when it's time? Can you pull the trigger?" Fear clogs my throat, denying me words. I manage a nod, keeping my fists locked at my sides and my body rigid. I won't be afraid. He sighs.

"Go, get out of here."

0o0

The Training Room is crowded with people, everyone grabbing weapons and putting on their uniforms. I find my own black jacket, dark jeans and large combat boots; and a small earpiece connecting to anyone nearby. I pick two handguns and a stretch of bullets to go round my waist like a belt. I see Aston already prepared and lined up at the door and I make my way over to him, weaving in and out of people.

"Willow," Flint grabs my hand, whirling me around to meet his eyes. Without another word, he presses his lips to mine and holds the back of my head, the sweet smell of lemon coming off him. I pull closer, my arms wrapping around him. It's like instinct as we stand there for five perfect seconds, in each other's arms. He breaks away, giving me a longing glance with his dark eyes, then hurrying off to help the others. I stand there, a little surprised but drunk with love. I stumble over to Aston, my head whizzing with the newfound appreciation for everything around me.

"Did he just...?" asks Aston.

"Mmhm," I mumble, feeling the weight of my gun in my hand as to distract myself. Reggie blows a whistle and we stand to attention, in three huge lines.

"Some of you are only children," he says, his voice softer than usual. "And some of you have been through things like this before. We didn't know the rebels would attack again this soon."

"Again, sir?" someone calls.

"That was to be your last bit of training," he says, "There was a small war, which we won, but the rebels promised to come back. It was five years ago, but long forgotten and pushed out of history books and memories. Fight hard soldiers." Someone near me starts to cry and their friend comforts them. I glance over at Lianne and see she even looks worried. I feel sympathy for everyone around me, young and old. Today we aren't separate cliques with no purpose until we are stronger.

Today we are one.

0o0

We march up the stairs, Aston by my side and Flint missing. I hear the gunfire as the adults already position themselves up at the front lines. The sound around me goes to dull nothing as my own heartbeat pounds in my ears. My breathing gets rougher as we continue to climb to the large trapdoor; my hands shake and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I never realized how soon we would be fighting. This could be my very last day one earth and I don't even get a chance to say goodbye to Flint. Tell my mother I am sorry. Kiss my father on the cheek. I comfort myself by squeezing Aston's hand, but the fear and the grief still clouds my mind from everything else.

We reach the top, boots halting and the doors being opened.

"Get to the trees and find position," shouts Reggie and I hear him in the small earpiece despite his high position up at the top of the stairs. "Then open fire when I say so." The boots start again, a loud noise, which cannot be drowned out since no one dares to speak. My hand never leaves Aston's.

We make it to the top and find ourselves in a small wood, surrounded by high sturdy trees. I run to one, Aston finally leaving my side. I scramble up it, my eyes fixed on a huge field with large rocks, like it's made for battle. Still, everything looks so peaceful. Gray clouds roam above, threatening rain but not dangerously. The wind whips soft green grass and the rocks have dust blown off them with each gust. I grip the tree tight, my knee wedged between two branches and my other leg steady on a bent twig. I pull out my gun, steadying it in my slightly shaky hands. Where are they? As if he is reading my thoughts, Reggie whispers into the earpiece: "Behind the rocks. Hold fire. We wait until we see one move." I feel a jolt of fear in my stomach; butterflies in my abdomen making it hard to focus on the task. I pull the bullet into place and hear a few other people do the same.

"OPEN FIRE!" They must have seen someone. People leap from behind the rocks, each with dark masks and clothing, huge guns in their gloved hands. I see one running towards me, gun ready to shoot. It's not training, I tell myself. So I pull the trigger right at his heart. Miss. I almost breathe a sigh of relief then realize he's still running. I fire again, but at his leg. He falls forward, face planting into the ground. But there are more. I fire everywhere, focusing on heads or hearts but only hitting arms.

I cock my gun in place and shoot again, this time at a broad looking man with his mask pulled off, showing a gruff face with scars all over it. It hits his chest. A look of surprise crosses his face- then he falls, back onto the grass, blood soaking his dark shirt.

"Oh m-my god," I spit, "I..."

"Willow, get down!" I see Flint suddenly, yelling at me from the tree nearby. I jump on instinct, hitting the grassy ground with a thud. But the pain in my leg isn't from impact. Someone shot me. The shock is gone all too quickly and I feel the blood start to soak out, making me scream in agony. My calf is dripping with the red liquid, my hand trying desperately to seize it and stop the ache. I feel Flint pull me to my feet and I gasp for air.

"We have to move!" he shouts over the gunfire. Why hasn't someone shot us yet? We both hold out our guns, me leaning against a tree for support while moaning in pain. It feels like someone is biting into my leg repeatedly.

"You're losing blood," says Flint, turning around. "Watch my back and I'll fix it." He rips off a bit of his t-shirt but I can already feel the loss affecting me. My eyes roll back into my head and I subconsciously feel my body hit the ground.

I dream of spiders.

0o0

A/N

Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading! :)


	10. Chapter 10

I wake up all too quickly, my leg screaming in pain and my head all fuzzy. I pry my eyes open, finding myself in a makeshift tent, lying on a thin mattress by a small fire circle with only hot ashes to stop the cold from getting in. I drag myself up to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my calf as I endure the cold coming in through the front flap of the tent. I hear people talking outside and I reach for my gun but it's gone. I don't dare say a word.

The flap opens and Flint is there, holding a bucket of warm water and a towel. I notice a large cut across his face and his hair is caked in mud and other grime.

"You're hurt," I mumble, wishing I could get up and walk to him. He sets down his items and comes over to me instead.

"And you got shot in the leg." His hand slips into mine, our fingers intertwining like it's an everyday ritual.

"Where are we?" I ask softly.

"We made camp about seven miles from base," he says, "Reggie says he has information about where the rebel base is and we can head there today once everyone is healed." I touch the cut on his cheek with my hand, my thumb running over the rough ridges of it.

"Did they get to our base?" I ask.

"A few did. But we fought them off. Well they did. I was trying to get you to safety." I stare at my feet, upset that I got hurt so quickly.

"Maybe I'm not ready for this sort of thing," I mutter, "We didn't have all of our training you know."

"I know," he says, "But Reggie says we have to get to their base now, before they replace the soldiers we killed and captured. And you're ready. I know you are."

"Because I'm Katniss Everdeen's daughter?" I say sarcastically.

"No," he says quietly, "Because you're you. And I know you have it in you because I believe in you."

0o0

My leg still hurts by the time Reggie comes shouting at my tent, but Flint helps me out and on my feet, handing me a thick stick to walk with. Aston comes over to check on me but he's got injuries of his own, with a whack in the head leaving him with a purple bruise.

"We look like a wreck," comments Reggie in my earpiece as I see him glancing around the group at the front of the line. I take a look around at us, but I don't think we look that bad. Several injuries all around, but everyone has a weapon and only a few of us are limping.

"You're in no condition to fight," Aston keeps saying, but I shrug him off and stick with Flint, the nerves from yesterday revisiting my stomach.

"It will take about twenty four hours to reach their base," says Reggie, "We're not sure if this is the main one, or one of many. We should be able to get past the front guards, but once we're inside, there's too many to try and fight. I suggest a stealth mission, but we'll have to pick our best soldiers to go in and the rest of you to guard. I want Laura Miggs, Flint Odair, Andrew Jackabee, and Ron Cramen. You guys have been here longest so you should be able to get in just fine. Come to me for the plan." I turn to Flint, eyes wide.

"You can't," I say sternly, "It's suicide."

"Willow, I'm trained," he says, "Besides, don't tell Reggie, but I think this mission is going to fail anyway. Their defenses are more built than ours. We'll just take a quick look and be back before you know it."

"And what if you get caught?"

"They won't kill us," he says, "They'll probably interrogate us and then keep us just in case. Plenty of time for you to prepare yourselves for battle and save us." I know he's just trying to comfort me but it doesn't work.

"They'll interrogate you?" I snap, remembering the spiders. "What- by half drowning you? Maybe letting some snakes eat off your flesh?"

"Willow, calm down," he says softly, brushing my hair behind my ear. "I'll be fine. Besides, we've got hours until it's actually time to go in." I don't tell him that waiting in suspense just makes it worse. We walk hand in hand, feeling like my worries are far greater than his.

0o0

A/N

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	11. Chapter 11

That night, after a long day of hiking, we camp on a grassy area of a mountain. The tents are small but comfortable for two. I know Reggie won't mind too much, so Flint and I make a tent together, lying awkwardly next to each other in the thick quilts. I've never been so close to someone, I think as he reaches for my hand. I wonder how other girls do it- I used to see girls at my school with their boyfriends, acting like he was the only care in the world and there was no discomfort in kissing or staring into each other's eyes for long periods of time.

But I realize that Flint's rough hands are like a soothing melody, telling me things aren't all that bad. I feel slightly ashamed for wondering about boyfriends when we have a war to fight.

"Willow, are you alright?" I like the way he says my name. It sounds perfect.

"Yes," I turn on my side, facing him. I can't stare long, but he just comes closer when I glance away.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," a little smile forms on his lips and my own face matches it.

"I've never known someone like you," I whisper. _So strong and handsome-with carved features. _I know I'll always remember him exactly like this; even when he ages. I run a hand along the scar on his cheek and he presses his head into my palm. I don't know why it all feels so familiar, but his eyes are like the memories of dark clouds forming, promising rain and maybe danger. It makes me feel at home. I close the connection between our lips, closing my own eyes, my lashes touching his skin.

And I hold him tight.

0o0

Someone screams out, slicing through my dreams like a knife. My earpiece beeps once before I can get up, Reggie's rushed voice hissing at me- "They found us." My breathing hitches and my eyes fly open, the sound of shouting and fighting getting louder as I come to. I stumble onto my feet, but Flint is at the flap all too quickly.

"They're here," he gasps, running towards me and taking my hands.

"How many?"

"Hundreds." I swallow hard. We'll get through this.

"We have enough to fight," I say, "Just stay safe and I'll meet you somewhere later. Look in the trees."

"Willow, not with your leg," he says, "Get to a tree and hide there." Despite all that's going on, my anger sets off like a lit fuse.

"No!" I cry, "People can stop telling me not to fight! I'm going out there." His eyes search my face, his mouth opening and closing slowly as he struggles for words. I kiss him instead. I hold the back of his neck for the short time we have, the blasts and the bullets making noise around us.

"In a tree," I whisper, pulling away. "Find me." I take a last glance at his face before grabbing my gun and bullets and running into the battle. It's complete mayhem, as our enemy crawls up the mountain towards the campsite, as blood spills out onto the grass, and as gunfire rings in my ears- making me dizzy. I drop to my stomach and crawl behind a tree, keeping my gun up next to my ear. I quickly turn back around and see a solider running towards me, raising his gun.

I shoot him first. My breath stops for just a second but I can't stay to watch his body twitch in pain- so I turn around and keep shooting. People are constantly running at me, but I dodge bullets and the only pain is from tripping over bodies. My legs burn as I climb one of the trees, getting a better view of below. I can't meet Flint yet- but I need to see better. I shoot a few enemies who are circling some of our soldiers, but my aim is awful from here and I only hit them in the legs. Then I see Flint. He's got his gun and he's looking out for people but he doesn't see the soldier behind him. I scream at him to move. He turns.

I don't get to see the look on his face as the other soldier shoots him in the chest.


	12. Chapter 12

I think I stop breathing. My whole body goes tense as I fathom with horror what just happened. Flint falls to the ground, like a nameless soldier, left behind. Someone grabs me but I pull away like I have all the strength in the world, letting out a guttural scream as I try to get to him. _He's not dead. They didn't kill him. He's not dead. _I fall to the ground by him, watching his white shirt fill up with blood. I refuse to believe it's him. I throw my hand on his chest, holding the blood. _He's not dead. I know he's not dead. _

"Help!" I scream, _"Somebody help me!" _I feel strong arms latch onto me again, dragging me away. I fight, kicking and biting as they pull me. My teeth sink into flesh that is not mine and I taste blood- but their grip stays tight, making my body ache in pain. My mind whispers, _I promise he's not dead. _


	13. Chapter 13

I can't breathe. I try to grab my breath but it just flies away, leaving my lungs straining and my stomach in agony. I suck in whatever breath I have left and let it go with a large gasp.

"H-help," I choke on my own words, fighting for each one to claim it's place at the surface- where the oxygen is. I pry my eyes open, but before I can realize what's happening, someone places a plastic item over my mouth and my breath rushes back, filling me up like a warm drink. I pass out.

0o0

When I wake up again, I get to open my eyes for longer and realize I'm in a hospital room with white walls and ceilings, all bright but without windows. I touch the plastic piece on my mouth; breathing in slowly and back out in a rhythm.

Then the memories flood back.

Flint. The gun. Where _is _he? I try to get up but that's when I notice the restraints on my arms and legs, gluing me to the bed. I yell for Flint. Then I scream. I pull and pull from the white bands, wrenching away with all my strength but to no avail.

The doors open and a blonde nurse walks in, her hair up in a tight bun, above her white outfit with a bloody stain on the front.

"Let me go." My voice comes out like a growl, much different from the shouting I was doing a moment ago.

"I cannot do that," she says and steps over to a white counter, filling a needle with a sickly green liquid. She walks over to me and pulls off the mouthpiece so I can speak without a muffle.

"At least tell me where Flint is," I say, my fury turning to a need of some sort. I need to know he's alright. The nurse leaves without a word, not even looking me in the eye. I am about to start screaming again when Reggie comes in.

"Reggie, thank god," I gasp, "Where's Flint? Tell me he's okay." Reggie's face looks like someone tried to carve it, with scars all over it and blood still dripping from some. He takes a moment to sit down in a plush yellow chair and wipe away some of the red with a small handkerchief.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, throat scratchy.

"That's not important!" I yell hysterically, _"Is Flint okay?!" _

"No." He cuts across my words, his eye filled with worry. My stomach flips.

"He's alive though?" Reggie's head bows and I know the answer.

"Don't lie," I whisper, "He _is _alive."

"Willow, I'm sorry," he says, placing his hand on mine. I pull away, eyes glistening with tears.

"You're _lying_," I hiss dangerously. My whole body is trembling as I speak, making me feel uneasy. I hate this feeling. I grip the side of my mattress, willing myself not to cry. He's lying.

"I don't have any reason to lie to you," he says, "Now you have to stay calm. Your heart is still unsteady."

"My _heart?" _I spit out, "Flint is in danger and you're worried about my _heart?" _

"Willow," he grabs my arm. "Flint isn't in danger; he died. He was shot." His words sting but I still can't believe it. Not strong Flint. The boy I barely knew but felt like I could do anything when I was with him. I let out a small sob, not ready to accept anything. My chest is aching but I can tell it isn't just a woeful feeling. My whole body suddenly hurts and I gasp for air.

"W-what happened"-my chest intensifies in pain- "to me?"

"You had a little heart episode," he says, "Nothing we can't deal with." The nurse comes back in and takes the needle off the table, injecting it inside my arm before I can object. The pain is nothing compared to my chest, which fades away before all the liquid is even in me. I try to catch my breath while Reggie whispers something to the nurse.

Then he turns back to me, "The rebels who attacked us were a large chunk of their army," he says, "And if we can get inside and shut down some things, we can maybe beat them to their final stage of planning. We're guessing the final bit is either invading the mansion again, or just killing your parents when possible."

"No."

"No what?"

"They can't kill my parents."

"That's why I'm asking you to go in with the team and help dismantle their electronics. They have a lot."

"But that's Flint's job," I say groggily, the medicine affecting the tiredness I've been fighting off.

"Willow you can't deny it forever. He's gone." He gets up and leaves, touching my hand briefly in what I guess to be a comforting manner. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling hot tears rush from their ducts, filling me with the horrible sinking feeling. The truth is too much but I can't fight it now as I realize that everything I saw was real and not some horrifying dream. I choke on another sob, reliving the moment when the soldier mercilessly shot Flint. I want to open my eyes- to make it stop. But the medicine takes another jab at me and I fall into a deep sleep, taunted by the nightmares of things I've only just realized.

0o0

I wake up and my chest hurts again, but not as badly. I've been moved from the hospital room to a tent without me waking. I lay my head back on the thin mattress, my last horrible dream fading away as I sink back into reality.

And it's almost as bad as the nightmares.

I want to strangle the person who killed him. I want to make sure the last thing they see is my pained face, so they'll feel guilty right before they pass onto an endless sleep. The anger stabs me in the gut like a knife, telling me the only way to live with Flint's death is to bring on the death of his killer.

I grab my gun and water, both set by me when I was brought here. I roll up my mattress and take down the tent, barely conscious of the other people doing the same thing. I glance around occasionally and even catch Aston's eye once; but he turns away, like he can't bear to look at me. I must look like a wounded deer or a crazed murderer. I can't decide which is worse.

Reggie comes to me a few minutes later, a clipboard in his hand and a few pain pills in the other.

"Take these," he says, giving them to me without me answering. "The pain in your chest will be held back for a few hours, which is just enough time to get in, cut some wires and get out."

"You make it sound simple," I mutter. My throat feels dry. I take a long drink of water, cutting off the time I have to look Reggie in the eye. I don't want to talk to anyone really.

"It's not," he says with a dead serious look in his eye. "But I need you to be fast anyway. Find the control room and listen to the rest of the team."

"Why are you sending _me _in?" I snap, "I'm the least certified and if you hadn't noticed, someone actually cared about Flint."

"I'm sending you because I know you have a score to settle with his murderer," is all Reggie says before marching away to someone else. I bite my lip, knowing how right he is but not wanting to admit it. Finally he yells at everyone to get their things together. I grab my backpack and shrug it on, trying not to think about if we'll have to walk through the place where all the bodies are.

"We're on the other side of the mountain," says Aston, coming up behind me. It's like he can read my mine- but I know he's really just trying to make conversation. I respond with a nod.

"You okay?" he asks. Another nod from me. We keep hiking, everyone just mumbling softly, each one dealing with their own loss or something else's. I can't see a huge difference in our numbers, but it feels big to me.

0o0

We reach a forest near the top of the mountain at nightfall, when my legs are burning and my chest is already starting to become pained. I take the pills in case I have to run inside the base. We set up camp at a secluded area about a mile away from the top where the enemy lies. I set up my tent right before Reggie comes to collect me and the rest of the small team. Laura, a skinny dark haired girl with a huge gun strapped to her back, Andrew, a boy with glasses and messy blonde hair, and Ron, a boy with two large guns and a stone-dead face, his brown hair laying over his forehead. Then there's Aston.

"What are you coming for?" I whisper.

"Reggie picked me," he says softly. I shrug this off, but a little confused as to why Reggie isn't sending another professional. I am full of newfound adrenaline, Flint finally out of my mind as I plan how to get revenge on the people who shot him. Well, he's not _exactly _out of my mind. I check my guns but don't click the bullet into place yet. Not safe.

"The hike will take thirty minutes on foot," he says, "It's a treacherous climb, but nothing you all can't handle. When you get to the base, which you'll be entering from the back, find an entrance and use these if you find anyone."

"Tasers?" says Aston, taking one of the metal weapons.

"They're quieter and fit in your pocket easily," says Reggie, "Also, take one of these. Less quiet, but sometimes helpful." Grenades. I take one, holding it like it's the most fragile thing on earth. I feel weird tucking it into my backpack, but I do it anyway, ready to get out of here and up to the base.

"Good luck," says Reggie, "Remember to stick together and if you can't do that- well- get ready to use that grenade." I swallow hard, keeping a hand on one of my guns.

It's time.

0o0


End file.
